


Fire Meet Gasoline

by le_chat_vilain



Series: The Joker and the Thief [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Choking, F/M, NSFW, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Thief is given an ultimatum that sees her sever old ties and lands her back on the Joker’s doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Meet Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of roughness, nothing major but I know some people have a thing about choking so figured the trigger warning is necessary. I’m starting to lay more plot down so don’t be surprised if the next chapter ends up being a bridger without smut - well, nothing in depth anyway. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Fire Meet Gasoline by Sia

“You’re kidding me right? You think I’m just gonna let you walk back in here after what you’ve done?” she spits at me. “You fucking traitor, how could you do that to Harley? To all of us? How could you do that to yourself?”

I should’ve known this would happen.

“Oh fuck off, Selina, you know what they say about those in glass houses.” That shuts her up. “Don’t you go waxing prolific to me about treachery, you’ve been fucking the Bat for  _years_  and you still think we believe you when you say you don’t know who he is? Please, you wrote the book on being a fucking traitor.”

The Cat just stares at me, blocking the doorway to our apartment; well, her apartment I guess now. We stand there glaring at each other like two gunslingers in a John Wayne film, just waiting for the high noon. Selina saved my life once upon a time, back when I was just a kid really. My father left me to rot in Arkham, and when Harley had pulled off one of her break-ins looking to bust out kitty and Pam, Selina convinced them to take me too; said I didn’t belong there and I deserved a chance. Harley recognized me as her old professor’s daughter and they took me in, gave me a home, a new family even I guess.

_Maybe I am a traitor…_

“That is completely different and you know it,” she starts, her tone low and intense. “Me and B-Batman, that’s symbiotic. He keeps off our asses because of me, there’s a method in my madness. But him…how could you? You saw what he did to Harley, you of all people know what he’s capable of. You knew Harley before him, before any of this and yet you’re just gonna walk right there in her footsteps? Are you fucking crazy? There’s nothing good that can come of this, that man is a monster. End it now before you wind up dead or worse.”

I can’t fault her logic, but she also doesn’t have all the facts. Selina might be a thief too but we’re not exactly the same. Deep down, she’s a good person; she’s kind, compassionate, and intensely caring, even if she does her best to hide it. I’m not like her, I’m selfish, manipulative, cruel even; perhaps they were right to label me like they did in Arkham. I do, however, have one rather redeeming feature: I hate being indebted to people. If it wasn’t for her I’d probably still be rotting away in a padded cell, being force fed a pill cocktail until I magically learnt empathy, or died.

“Well, what’s it gonna be, kid?” she asks, giving me an ultimatum. End it and stay, or consider myself homeless and an enemy of the siren state. I can feel myself being torn in two, my sense of gratitude to her pulling me one way, and my selfishness the other.

“Selina, you don’t understand…” I begin to explain. The way she looks at me almost breaks my heart. It’s not an expression of hurt, or anger, or sadness – it’s soul crushing disappointment. She reaches behind the door and slings my dive bag to my feet; maybe she knows me better than I thought. With a shake of her head and a broken sigh, she looks me in the eyes one last time before turning away and closing the door. When I hear the bolt shoot I know our business is concluded.

“Argh! I am nothing like Harley, and you know it!” I roar in frustration and slap the wood with my palms. What have I done? “Selina, wait! Selina? Selina!”

Nothing. I can hear her going about her business, pots and pans clanging, television on; too late to change my mind now. Fine, if that’s how she wants to play it then so be it.

It’s been a week but I manage to navigate back to his place without too much hassle – I mean there’s a lot of abandoned buildings in Gotham but there’s only a couple of them that are theatres, and only one that was once famous for it’s stand-up comedy nights. Really, anyone with half a brain could find him if they thought about it for more than thirty seconds, it’s not like he’s made it difficult.

I make my way in via the stage door, and climb down into the orchestra pit to access the understage where the door to the basement can be found. The security lights are on in the stairwell and I can hear the humming of the generator. When I reach his door I try the handle to find that it’s locked. I know I could knock, but where’s the fun in that? The lock is an old one, 1920s or earlier, and I do so very much enjoy antiques. It takes me less than a minute to pick my way in with a hairpin, and I gently push the door open.

Even if I had’ve been boring and knocked, it wouldn’t have mattered: he’s passed out on the couch, shirtless and barefoot wearing nothing but an old pair of purple drainpipe jeans. I pinch a cigarette from the case on the pool table, and light it before swinging my bag up onto the felt to see exactly what Selina packed. Everything’s there, even his coat.

Suddenly a swell of anger rolls over me. This asshole cost me my family, and it would be so easy for me to hurt him right now. I look at the cigarette between my fingers and then to his bare chest, and soon I’m hovering over him with it, fighting the urge to brand him.

But I can’t do it. Already just being here in this place I feel so much more relaxed, peaceful even. More than anything I feel safe, as counterintuitive as it must sound. I take a last drag and ditch it in the sink instead, then pull the heavy leather trench from the bag that now holds my entire life within its seams.

It’s not his fault I’m here, I’m a grown woman and I had a choice. The only person I have to blame is myself. I sit on the table and lob the coat at him so that it lands on his head and he wakes with a start.

“What the fuck…” he mumbles, eyeing the coat like he’s never seen it before as his senses slowly adjust to consciousness. His confusion is adorable, and I can pinpoint the exact moment he recognizes the garment and knows I’m here; he beams at it and lets out a chuckle before even looking my way.

“You came back.”

“You still have my lucky Chucks,” I point out. “Also, Selina kicked me out and I have nowhere else to go.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special, sweetheart,” he remarks, and wearily rises from the couch to make a bee line for me. The gash on his cheek appears to be healing nicely, and his bruises are fading out to a greenish yellow. He comes to a stop immediately in front of me, and wastes no time sliding his hands up my thighs and parting them so that he can slither his way in to stand between my knees.

“Well if you must know, I was given an ultimatum,” I tell him.

“Is that so?” he asks with mock intrigue.

“It is.” I loop my arms around his neck and he smirks at me.

“No honor amongst thieves, huh?”

“Something like that.”

I fear the truth is nothing like that. The truth is so much worse. He leans in and takes my lower lip between his teeth and tugs, following up with a dark grin. His hands slide around to grip my ass and he lifts me up, my feet hooking together at his back instinctively. I can’t help but giggle at him, and in the back of my mind make note of this surreal feeling. It’s carefree, chilled, a feeling I thought long lost to me; I think I might actually be genuinely happy. I reach a hand up into his hair and yank roughly, pulling his head back so I can run my tongue up his throat soliciting a rumble from deep in his chest.

“I missed you,” he says when I release him, and in a way it sounds like it’s a revelation even to him. I smirk at him and laugh, and he returns both in kind, then starts marching us towards the door beside the cell. Without a free hand, he kicks it open and I see his bedroom for the first time.

I squeal when he throws me down on the bed. It’s a huge four poster creation that appears to be made from repurposed construction scaffolding. The headboard is formed by a panel of chain link fencing that runs the entire way up to the top of the posts, with an art deco mirror mounted on the exposed red bricks behind it. For a moment I get lost in how impressed I am by the uniqueness of the piece, but he recaptures my attention when he wrenches my boots off and starts on relieving me of my jeans. I watch him do it, endlessly entertained by the way he looks like a kid unwrapping a present on Christmas Day.

Once the denim hits the floor, I sit up and peel off my t-shirt, laughing at the way his eyes widen when he realizes I wasn’t wearing a bra. I bite my lip and shoot him a cheeky grin, and lean back on my elbows, giving my long auburn hair a swish just because I can. His smile disappears and is replaced by the face of a predator that’s gone far too long between meals. He ditches his jeans and crawls onto the bed, roughly flips me onto my stomach, and pulls my hips up forcing me onto all fours.

I feel a sharp smack on my ass and then his hand knots in my hair and he pulls again, reefing my upper body off the bed and catching me with his free arm. He snakes it under my bust and hugs me against him.

“Look at you…fuck me, you’re beautiful…” he croons in my ear, watching me in the mirror, grinning at my reaction when he licks me from collar bone to ear and I squirm and smile at him. “Do you have any idea how bad I wanna hurt you right now?”

Nimble fingers pinch my nipple and I gasp as he keeps twisting. It hurts just right, and I can’t help but moan in response. I don’t care how much he wants to hurt me, I’ll let him, I want him to hurt me; he’s so good at it. I reach an arm up and hook my hand around the back of his neck, grinning through the pain, and he laughs and pinches harder still.

“Look at us…we belong together, don’t we?” he asks, nipping at my neck and releasing the pressure on my nipple. He looks me in the eye by way of my reflection when he says it, waiting for my reply.

_Do we though?_  I don’t even know why I ask myself when I knew the answer the second he posed the question. It’s in the way I’m drawn to him, the way my body reacts like a Geiger counter when he’s near. It’s in the way we challenge each other, the way we want to hurt each other and be hurt by each other. Everything, down to this moment and the simplicity of how perfectly his body fits against mine, how he’s looking into my very soul and for once I’m not scared to let someone see it. He’s seen the darkness and not only was he not afraid, but he loved it. Belong together? We were made for each other.

“Like a bullet and a gun,” I whisper with a soft grin, and he beams at me. He watches me watch his hand as he ghosts it down my stomach, teasing me the whole way. When he darts his fingers between my legs and over my slit it’s soaking, and he raises his brow and smirks at me.

“I think you missed me too,” he snickers. “Let’s find out how much…”

Without hesitation he plunges his fingers into me and I close my eyes and cry out.

“Eyes open,” he instructs, yanking on my hair abruptly. I do as I’m told. “I want you to see what I see, what a perfect shape that pretty mouth of yours makes when you cum…”

It doesn’t take long for him to get what he wants. He rhythmically slides his fingers in and out, being sure to curve them so they hit the right spot at the right time, all while the heel of his hand pulses against my clit. The smugness in his smile when he makes me come undone is undeniable, and it only grows with every whimper that escapes my lips. He withdraws, making sure to drag his fingers over me to inflict a little extra torture, and proceeds to lick my wetness from them with an appreciative groan.

“Mmm you missed me alright,” he remarks, and finally relinquishing his grip on my hair he turns my head towards him and kisses me so that I can taste myself on his tongue. I’m completely discombobulated and I let myself get lost in the kiss, so lost that I barely register his hand winding its way around my throat.

“Eyes on the mirror, babe,” he says, turning my head with his thumb on my jaw so that I’m once again looking where he wants me to. His other hand finds its way to my hip and he tilts me forward gently before pulling me back with force to enter me. He grins through the breath that catches in his throat, and lets out a low groan. My body still hasn’t recovered so I shudder in his grip, and he responds by choking me harder and driving into me at a punishing pace, sporadically raining hard slaps down on my inner thighs. I can feel his hip bones pounding into me, and I know tomorrow I’ll be black and blue but I don’t care, I want to be. His hand makes contact with my pussy and I buck into him at the shock. He cackles and repeats the action over and over again, remorselessly and with increasing rapidity until I’m not sure if I’m going to cry or pass out from complete sensory overload. My eyes flicker shut, and his hand leaves my throat to clasp my jaw: “Eyes. Open.”

He’s being brutal, but it doesn’t last. Something changes in him when our eyes meet in the glass. When my lips curl up in spite of my exhaustion, and he growls in response, running his up my neck and wrapping his arm around my stomach to hug me closer. He slows down, drops his other hand to lace his fingers with mine and this time has no objections when I turn my head so that our lips brush but don’t quite make it to a kiss.

And then it creeps in like a thief in the night, that same feeling from before. The one we’d agreed not to talk about and that he’d promised wouldn’t come to repeat itself. That tantric, supercharged connection that has me practically vibrating all over. It’s like I’m a jack-in-the-box wound right up and stuck indefinitely in the moment just before the pop. Even after the coil turns us loose and I feel like I’m floating, there’s still that tightness in my chest that this time just won’t let go. We glance at each other’s reflection and I can see it in his eyes that this was no one sided phenomena. We collapse forward to fall on our sides, slick with sweat and still locked together and panting. He nuzzles into my hair and I roll over to face him, smirking at the way he groans and clenches his jaw when he slides out of me.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let that happen again?” I tease. He chuckles softly before he catches my eye and confusion takes over his face. It’s in that moment that I realise I asked of him the impossible, and he’d foolishly made me a doomed promise. This was now something out of our control, if it ever had been in the first place.  

“I guess I lied.”  


End file.
